Of Abuse and Love
by AndDelightReigned
Summary: Split into two parts, this is a segment of Remus Lupin's life that he would very much like to forget.  I don't really want to give very much away here, but please read because all is not as it seems in the beginning!  Warning: violence and slash.  RL/SB.


Important message:

So, hi. Please do not be disappointed when you see that this is all one chapter. I hope you will notice that it is a very long chapter. This is the first half of the story, and the second half will be registered as chapter two. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters, spells, places, etc. They are all property of Ms. J.K. Rowling. The plot, however, is completely my own.**

Of Abuse and Love

Part I

The morning of December 12, 1975 was not a pleasant one for a certain R. J. Lupin. For starters, he had woken up late for Transfiguration. With Professor McGonagall. Whose record of detention handed out was bordering on 200, notwithstanding the past four years.

Once he had located his left sock and yanked his bangs into place, Remus glanced at the clock. His fellow marauders were nowhere in sight (as it was eight-thirty, class was in session), and his boyfriend wouldn't be, either. Remus groaned. He knew that Amos would be angry for making him wait, he hadn't meant to sleep so late. Maybe he would understand this time…

Yes, Amos Diggory, Ravenclaw seeker and rival of James Potter, was dating Remus Lupin. Said boyfriend had been waiting outside the Gryffindor Common Room for half an hour, give or take a few minutes, and then left with his friends Emmeline Vance and Jatin Patil - patience was not one of his virtues. Indeed, he had little of those, but he loved Remus, so that's what counted. Right?

Remus was hurrying down the second floor corridor, stopping only once to untangle his shoelace from a leering gargoyle. Five minutes later after a timid prod at the door, he sat next to Sirius Black, his best friend (who also happened to be an avid Amos-hater). He and Amos had decided to keep with their usual groups in class so as not to raise suspicion about their relationship.

"Mr. Lupin?" Remus grimaced. He hated the spotlight.

"Professor?" he returned feebly.

"Two points from Gryffindor for your tardiness. You've only missed the introduction to color transformation. We are on page number sixty-two…I trust you have completed Monday's assignment?"

As their instructor conferred with Remus, James and Sirius exchanged guilty looks (Peter was too busy sucking on his sugar quill to pay attention to much else at the moment). They knew they'd be in trouble with their friend for letting him sleep in, but rest really was the best option with only three days between them and the previous full moon. Madam Pomfrey had kept Remus in her care for two days afterwards, as usual, and then sent him back to the boys' dormitories on the second night; this was his first day back in class.

Of course, all of these comings and goings from the Hospital Wing had dug a deep hole in Amos's curiosity. It was something not usually penetrated, as he spent most of his brain cells on logic: puzzles, homework, recreational potions. And Quidditch, which was practical in its own way, given the strategy and positions. He rarely took interest in something that didn't have a correct answer involved all the time.

Amos had never been an especially romantic person, so Remus was surprised - albeit pleasantly flustered - when he asked him out. He had several other reasons to be surprised, too: for one thing, Amos had never expressed that much interest in him beyond the typical nods and "hello"s that categorized the Gryffindor/ Ravenclaw relationship. The houses were not enemies; they weren't bosom friends, either.

And then, completely out of the World of Random WTFs, Amos came up to Remus and asked him out. Just like that.

~ Flashback ~

Remus is sitting cross legged on the window seat in the far right of the Library overlooking the lake. He can see James and Peter feeding buttered scones to the Giant Squid - it's vegetarian. Sirius is in Greenhouse Three for his detention with Professor Sprout. He had charmed all of the Honking Daisies to sound out swear words (the least of which being "bloody") instead of their usual sounds. Remus can sense someone lurking behind a bookshelf in the Restricted Section, but ignores the person. Incidentally, this person is a male, which Remus can smell thanks to what Sirius has dubbed his "wolfie powers." Remus doesn't look up, though, figuring that he is looking for a book on one of the surrounding shelves. He isn't.

"Remus." It isn't a question, so Remus forces himself to answer. He's never really gotten over his shyness.

"Hi," he manages. "What's up?"

Amos waves an airy hand. "Oh, this and that. Yourself?"

"Nothing really," Remus mumbles. He still can't figure out why this Ravenclaw is talking to him.

"Good," Amos says in a rather matter-of-fact way. "Wanna go out?"

Remus blinks. He must have heard wrong because the words his brain had just processed were simply too bizarre, and truth be told, frightening.

"I'm sorry?" This time he actually leans forward and strains his ears.

"I said, do you want to go out? As in, go on a date for the next Hogsmeade visit?"

Remus pinches himself very, very hard. There is definitely something off in his tone, something wrong, but Remus does not have time to elaborate on this thought because Amos is clearly expecting an answer. Now. He'd start on the offensive side, though.

"How did you -?"

"Know? Remus, have you ever seen yourself walk? Or known another boy who, forgive me, cries as much as you do? Not that it matters," he adds hastily, noting Remus's offended expression.

"Er," Remus says, still rather uncomfortable. "We don't know each other very well, so how about starting off as friends?"

"That won't be necessary," Amos counters smoothly. "I'll see you around."

And, to Remus's intense perplexity, he kisses him on the temple and walks away - but not without winking at him when he reaches the library door. Remus flushes and tries to finish his Ancient Runes translation, but finds that he cannot focus on the identical spelling of "fish" and "fine" right now. He packs his bag and leaves, making sure to look as manly as possible.

~ End of Flashback ~

That meeting was three months ago. Now, in Transfiguration class, Amos sent a note that hovered quietly under the desks to Remus's ankles. When Professor McGonagall was through with him, he bent down and scooped it up. Before he had a chance to read it, however, a pale handed laced with black fingernail polish swiped it from him, leaving him with a deep paper cut instead of a love note. Sirius, he thought desperately, no, don't read it! Too late.

With a flourish of the balled up parchment, Sirius grinned, but not before sending Remus a silent apology. One of the few silent agreements in the Marauders' gang was that there were to be no secrets among them, not after they'd discovered Remus's lycanthropy. Remus had agreed to it at the time, but now…well, now he wasn't too sure. How could they possibly understand how it felt to be a homosexual werewolf? Sirius proceeded to read the note aloud:

"'R-

What kept you? I was waiting outside your Common Room for thirty minutes this morning! Don't you ever think of other people? You're so selfish. I can't believe I spend my time with you. What a bitch. A monster.

- A

P.S. We're talking tonight in the Room of Requirement at nine o'clock this evening. Don't be late.'"

Sirius looked up slowly, and when he spoke, his voice trembled.

"Who wrote this? What absolute asshole had the nerve to call you a monster?"

Remus only lowered his eyes. All was not over yet, he thought. They still don't know I'm gay. Sirius opened his mouth to continue to berate this unknown person, but James beat him to it.

"Sirius, shut up. You're upsetting Moony."

Sirius made a strange coughing sound in his throat that sounded remarkably like a repressed roar, but fell silent.

"Fine," he said after a few minutes, less accusatorily, "but we'll talk after class. Kapeesh?"

"Kapeesh," Remus muttered angrily. No, he thought to himself. I'm not angry. Just exasperated. I can't believe I gave away our secret so easily. Amos had trusted him, and Remus had blown it - again. He felt the fading bruise on his shoulder with a wince. His boyfriend had given that to him as punishment for not wanting to go further than snogging a few weeks ago.

~ Later ~

After Transfiguration, the fifth years had a free period, which was designed for study time, but, seriously, who studies? This made it quite easy for James and Sirius to march away with Remus between them up to the Astronomy Tower, Peter trailing in their wake. Once the door was closed, Sirius immediately went off on a tirade about prejudice and derogatory names and secrets and friends and don't you know that you can tell us anything? There, he paused for breath. Remus seized the opportunity to speak, and said,

"I can explain." James nodded and Peter stopped licking his lips, but Sirius slouched against the opposite wall, still muttering about betrayals. Remus braced himself and crossed his fingers for good luck. "I am in a relationship," he said, choosing his words carefully. At that, Sirius fell entirely silent. Remus felt a looming sense of a very nasty "uh oh" at his reaction; he looked at James for encouragement, who nodded again.

"We're dating, and I don't know how -"

"Hang on. Dating who, exactly?" Sirius's eyes narrowed. Remus gulped, but he knew that he owed it to his friends to be honest for once.

"…Amos Diggory?"

A shocked silence donned the room like a heavy, out of fashion cloak, ruffles and all. James was the first to recover.

"Well, your orientation isn't a problem. But I think we'd better talk about Amos, and more importantly, how he found out."

Remus was so relieved that his friends (or at least James) didn't care about his sexual orientation that he drew a blank on the last sentence.

"Found out about what?"

Sirius made an impatient noise again, but refused to elaborate.

"About you being a werewolf, Moony!" James said. He, too, looked a bit frustrated. "Why else would he call you a monster?"

Remus looked at the floor and said as casually as he could, "Why don't you?"

~ That evening ~

"So let me get this straight," demanded Sirius. "You're still going to see Amos Diggory after he called you a monster. Tonight."

Remus sighed and tore his eyes away from The Hobbit (it was his favorite book, written by an undercover wizard by the penname of J. R. R. Tolkien). "Yes. That's the last time I'm answering your question, Padfoot. I am meeting him at nine o' clock in -" he checked his watch "- five minutes in the Room of Requirement, just like he said. I'd better get going now." Remus set aside his book and made to stand, only to find his way blocked by a rather frightening figure of Sirius Black.

"No, Rem! You can't! You don't know what he's like!" Sirius's voice was becoming steadily louder and louder, like a freight train whistle. "You have no idea what he does," he continued. "He dumps girls left, right, all over the place! He's only going to break your heart."

Remus pushed past Sirius and clutched The Hobbit protectively to his chest. "Fine. You want to argue, Sirius? Okay, let's.

A. I do know that he's like. Amos is a middle child who is often neglected at home; he's only looking for someone to love and sometimes he gets carried away." He paused and rubbed his wrists together self-consciously. Fingertip bruises were etched deeply on his pale skin.

B. It's lucky I'm not a girl.

As for C…it's already broken."

A pulsing pause hung in the air, dancing a silent number, with shockingly green twists and turns. Sirius seemed to be arguing with himself as he brushed the bright tendrils from his mind. Finally, and with a great effort, he spoke.

"Oh, Moony," he whispered (for the first time in their conversation, he remembered that there were other Gryffindors in the room). "Who?" Remus froze. His first train of thought was loaded with compartments full of alarm, doubt, worry. Fear. Then, he reconsidered. It wouldn't hurt to give him one itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, little clue, would it? Of course not.

"He's no one you talk to on a regular basis, Sirius," said Remus carefully. "In fact, I doubt you talk to him at all, unless you're as mad as the rest of your family."

Sirius just looked at him, bewilderment written all across his sharp face, and said, "Okay. But if he - Amos, I mean - gives you any trouble at all, you let me know, yeah?"

Remus nodded. Sirius frowned and made a not-especially-pleased face. He clearly did not like the look of that nod.

"Promise."

His eyes were pleading, desperate, even. He was searching for an answer, any answer, and when he found none, he began to panic. Sirius clutched his friend's arm and squeezed it.

Remus freed his arm from the vice-like grip. Sirius's knuckles were white.

"I can promise you that nothing worse than a werewolf transformation will happen. And now, I really do have to go."

~ Ten Minutes Later ~

Several minutes and a few wrong turns later found Remus breathlessly entering the Room of Requirement. He was out of breath for two reasons, one being that he had raced down Gryffindor Tower without stopping, and two, as much as he hated to admit it…he was scared. How had Amos discovered his lycanthropy?

Amos was sitting in a bleak-looking chair next to a gothic fireplace that housed no flames. The only light in the room was from the torches on the walls. The fire pokers cast ominous shadows on the floor. He did not look up immediately, but continued to stare into space; he looked like a top-class muggle man who was pondering a very important prospect for his company.

"Amos," said Remus bravely, "what exactly were you getting at in that note of yours? I am not a bitch or a -" he hesitated: to say this would be a lie "- m-monster."

Amos chuckled. "Really? Tell me, Remus, if you're not a monster, then where do you go every full moon? Off on escapades with Black?"

Remus flinched. He did not want to talk about Sirius right now. Despite himself, he muttered, "Call him Sirius." He had always meant to confront (no, talk. He loved Amos, and Amos loved him, really. Really.) his boyfriend with confidence, but Amos, being at least a full head taller than Remus, was cold and intimidating. Remus shivered involuntarily.

"'Sirius?' By all means, Remus. You only had to ask." His voice took on a silkier edge, razor sharp. His eyes bored into Remus's so hard that he stepped back. Amos stepped forward. This went on for some time - a slow, horrific waltz - until Remus was finally backed into a corner.

"Come, come, Remus. Don't be afraid. Everything's going to be fine as long as you don't think about him again." Amos raised a brown eyebrow at him, daring him to protest. He didn't. "Good," he cooed. "See? The big, bad, Amos Diggory isn't going to hurt you." He laughed at his own joke, and then, without warning, his face became harsh again.

He reached out and pulled him to the armchair, leaving Remus straddled on his lap facing Amos, ignoring his questions (What're you doing? What's wrong?"). Rough lips captured smooth ones, and he was kissing Remus so hard that the other boy bled. Amos seized Remus around the waist to stop him from breaking away.

The kisses stopped, leaving Remus gasping desperately for air. "Amos, stop! You're hurting me!" For the first time that night, Remus spoke with real force. The taller boy blinked and tilted his head to the side for a moment, like a bird considering a juicy worm. He shrugged indifferently. All semblance of romance had left his stature.

"Maybe this will make you feel better." He jutted his hips wildly against Remus's; there was a manic glint in his eye. Remus squirmed and tried to kick his brain into gear, but he was disgusted to find that his body actually liked this. Intellectually, he knew that this was not the sweet-talking, Quidditch-playing Ranvenclaw who had suavely asked him out in the library. This was forceful…and wrong.

"Mm," murmured Amos, running a cold index finger down his spine. "Thatta boy. Or, should I say," he corrected himself, "thatta wolf." Remus flinched and tried once more to run, but Amos stood up and shoved him facedown into the chair. He turned Remus over.

. He wants to have sex. No, his brain supplied dully, he's going to have sex with you. Without your consent.

"You tell anyone about this, werewolf, and you're dead. Everyone will know your dirty little secret. You hear? He shook Remus's head up and down, causing his neck to crack. "That's what I thought." He laughed again, more excitedly this time.

And then, darkness.

~ December 13 ~

Remus awoke to the smell of blood and a dull ache coming from every part of his body. The pain was the worst coming from his tailbone, but he couldn't think why this would be so. After most werewolf transformations, his whole body was in equal agony. But, come to think of it, his boy was not in agony. His arms and legs were bruised, yes, but the pain was nothing compared to full moon nights…a lumos flickered suddenly in his sore head: this was not the aftereffect of a werewolf transformation. Last night the wolf had been - Amos.

Remus trembled and gasped at his newfound realization. And - he could not help himself - he began to cry. His tears were neither thick nor fast, but simply there, just as he was, and they were both stuck with this betrayal. Remus blinked. He hadn't meant to think that. Why should Amos be blamed for something he, Remus, wasn't ready for? I could have stopped him if I wanted to, he mused.

Three days after the full moon? The sensible part of his brain shot back at him. Yeah, right. You can barely pick yourself up from the floor!

That's not true, Remus scolded his brain irrationally. To prove his point, he braced himself and gingerly raised his head - it felt like a hangover. With a flash of pain, Remus recalled how he had been jerked by the hair to nod and stay put. No. That wasn't Amos. It could not be Amos.

Fueled by anger this time, Remus pulled himself up into a kneeling position. Then, screwing his eyes shut, he stood up. He had to grit his teeth together in order not to cry out. His legs hurt. Now, he thought, I only have to get back to Gryffindor Tower and tell -

No.

He wouldn't tell anyone about this, or else, well…Amos would - might, the desperate side of his mind insisted - tell the whole of Hogwarts about his lycanthropy.

Just as he was about to open the door (his hand was on the knob), he was flung sideways: Sirius, James, and Peter came striding in, cloaks billowed and wands raised. Well, he thought dryly, so much for not arousing suspicions.

"Remus!" they cried in unison. James dropped his wand and rushed forward to his friend, who attempted a weak smile. Peter followed James half a second later. Sirius, however, looked around at the room. The armchair was wet with what smelled like something only found in a bedroom or bathroom, and was typically only present when two people were doing certain…activities together. There was a little bit of blood around his friend's trousers, and visible scuff marks littered the floor. Curiously, the silver-tipped fire poker was lying across the chair.

Sirius's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. His mind was clearly whirling at top-notch speed, making it difficult to focus on one thing. From the look on his face, it was easy to guess what he was torn between doing: discovering the events of last night, kicking Amos Diggory onto the tallest treetop in Albania, and getting Remus to the Hospital Wing. Eventually, his face became a total white mask and joined the other two (evidently, his intellect had won out).

James and Peter moved to Remus's left and right sides to let Sirius in, forming a circle with Remus and Sirius facing each other.

"Rem." Sirius held Remus at arm's length, observing him grimly. "Why are you so wet and smelly?"

Remus winced. He had known this question was coming, but it had been phrased rather baldly, at least in Remu's opinion. It made it sound like Amos had done something bad. Well, he did, his conscience whispered, he raped -

- not you again! Remus scrambled to collect some words to feed his friends: he had been silent for too long, and James was looking increasingly alarmed and Peter was twitching more than he usually did. Sirius was making his arm go numb for the second time in under forty-eight hours. Remus looked up and met gray eyes, his own filled with exhaustion and misery, to find that he couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"I…" he started. "I can't -" his voice broke again. Remus frowned at himself and bit the inside of his cheek. Where was his voice when he needed it, damnit! He drew in a steadying breath and started over, noticing that his friends were hanging onto his every word. That was slightly daunting. "I can't tell you."

James gaped at Remus. "Come on, Moony, it's all right. We're not mad. 'Course you can."

Remus made a helpless sort of shrug at him, and turned to Sirius, whose face was absolutely livid. Sirius did not believe in excuses - especially the ones that hurt his friends.

"Where is he?"

It was more of a demand than a question. Remus, of course, had no idea where his boyfriend went.

"Who, Amos?"

"No, Remus, the other five billion bastards who fucked you up and -" Sirius paused. Something had shifted in Remus's expression. Revulsion. Shame. The emotions played a perverted game of peek-a-boo with Sirius until something clicked. Apparently, the same click happened in James's mind, too, for the two of them exchanged a horrified look. It said, quite plainly, Remus now. Amos later.

Sirius edged forward and knelt in front of Remus, pulling the both of them gently down to the floor.

"He did, didn't he?" he murmured, trying to calm both himself and Remus. "He raped you." Remus's eyes widened in shock at the word.

"No," he gasped. "It wasn't like that. I just wasn't ready…"

Sirius shook his head. "For what, sex?" Although his tone was almost stern and eyebrows were up, his eyes were kind as he held out his arms and drew Remus to his chest. "C'mere, Rem."

This was a most surprising gesture: Sirius Orion Black had never, never hugged someone willingly before, and his three fellow marauders knew it. Therefore, Remus was quite unprepared for it.

He shot up as fast as his injuries would allow and steadied himself against the wall. "No! Don't touch me!"

Remus remembered Amos's words from last night: "Everything's going to be fine as long as you don't think about him again." How could Remus ever not think about Sirius? Sirius was his best friend in the world aside from James or Peter (and somehow Peter didn't count anyway because of his monkey-see-monkey-do act - in other words, his tag-along behavior). Well, if he really wasn't to think about Sirius, then it would do no good for him to touch Remus. That much was certain.

Peter stepped back a few paces at the tone of Remus's voice and the look on Sirius's face. Even James visibly hesitated on whether or not he should say.

"Sirius, why are you hugging him? He's a boy!" Peter exclaimed. He then added, "And what about Amelia?"

Peter Pettigrew had various tendencies that got him on several (but to be completely honest, most) people's "bad" lists. Short, pudgy, and blonde, Peter's traits included a fondness for crude humor, a tendency to laugh at James's least funniest jokes, and picking the most serious times to make insensitive comments with amazing precision. Now was one of these times.

Remus had always thought that Peter must have had a very, very dear friend up above looking out for him on the first day of school on the Hogwarts Express, for he had stumbled into James's compartment and the Marauders put up with him long enough to give him a sense of belonging since then. Judging by the color that Sirius's face was quickly becoming, though, that sense of belonging could possibly be thrown away and left by the Slytherin Common Room sometime soon.

Sirius leapt to his feet just as Remus had done, except he strode furiously into the middle of the room instead of leaning against the wall. His face was now burning a kind of scarlet that would make Godric Gryffindor proud. Remus wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or anger or both, but James took on a thoughtful expression, which went unnoticed by the other three, as they were preoccupied by Sirius.

"I wasn't hugging him. And even if I was, would you have a problem with it?" Sirius spat out at Peter. "Or haven't you noticed the bruises and wet spot on his robes?"

Peter's mouth formed a would-be comical "o" circle as he looked at Remus, who was flushing and, having found his wand, was now pointing it at Sirius warily.

"Don't touch me," he repeated in a low voice. "Whatever you do, just stay away from me. I'm warning you," he panted, making his way out of the room, hands pressed against the wall for support. "Away." Remus reached the door and vanished behind it. As he was leaving the room, he heard Sirius throw an exasperated "sorry" to Peter. Remus smiled bitterly, knowing that James had probably made him apologize.

~ Later That Evening ~

Ten o'clock p.m. Sirius sat on the edge of the a plastic chair meant not to support worry, anger, or love, but weight (which was stupid, honestly, because those emotions were much, much heavier). His face was white and strained as he watched Remus sleep. The boy would occasionally cry out, lost in a nightmare…wolves and sheep…sheep and wolves…wolves in wool? Which was he? And where - where - where?

Eleven o'clock p.m. Sirius could stand it no longer. Despite Remus's warning, he crouched by the side of the hospital bed, hands clasped over his friend's, whispering comforting vowels and consonants (for, really, shelter does not come in clear words, precise packages). And in that moment, he knew.

Eleven o'one p.m. Sirius gently nudged Remus to the end of the bed and lay down alongside him, curled up like a child's security blanket. The boys fell asleep to the wonder of absolution.

~ December 13 ~

"…badly beaten and bruised, yes…believe it's silver…must alert headmaster immediately…"

The sensible nonsense of grown-up speech hijacked Remus's mind, threatening to take over and tell him exactly what he refused to believe: the truth. Reality, even. But who needs reality when they're sleeping? That's absurd, Remus thought drowsily. No one needs reality when they're sleeping. He nodded to himself and clutched his pillow, only to find that somebody else was already holding it. That meant…Amos. He had fooled Madam Pomfrey into letting him come visit his "sick friend," he thought frantically, and now - now what? How could he escape before - oh, god, he touching me!

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

And Sirius fell to the floor with a loud thud, and an even louder "fuck."

He quickly scrambled to his feet and turned back to Remus.

"It's just me, Rem: Sirius. I swear." His words seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

"Don't touch me." Remus's eyes were narrowed and dead, void of fear and everything else. If numbness could have a form, this would be it.

"Remus?"

Said boy tilted his head in recognition.

"Talk to me. I'm sorry I got in your bed. I was worried, and - and scared. What else could I have done?" He looked thoroughly miserable and held up his hands in surrender. "Besides, you were having nightmares," he continued. "You needed me." As he said this, his voice took on a different turn: yearning with a bit of hesitancy.

Remus did not even consent to blink.

"I was probably having nightmares," he said coldly, "because your body was wrapped around mine. That was insensate and selfish." He paused, noticing his friend's flinch, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach like a moldy anchor. But I mustn't think of that, he said to himself. No on can know how I feel anymore.

"James and Pete will want to know what you're up to. Should go and see them."

Sirius nodded; he recognized the dismissal and left without another word.

~ Back in Gryffindor Tower ~

"The I.V. and your hospital bed, this was no accident, this was a therapeutic chain of events…you've earned yourself a place atop the I.C.U.'s hall of fame…"

Sirius groaned in frustration and turned the dial on his Wizarding Wireless set. It was National Muggle Awareness Day, so all of the radio stations that played normal music broadcasted muggle tunes, instead. A mishap in the Department of Mysteries had also occurred that none of the employees would admit to, but the muggle songs that were being played on the radio were definitely of a different era. The problem was, though, that no one knew which time frame they belonged in. No matter where the songs were coming from, they were still undeniably there, and unfortunately, every one that played so far had reminded him of Remus.

"I think we have an emergency, I think we have an emergency…I've seen you cry way too many times when you deserved to be alive…and I can't pretend that I don't see this…"

He gritted his teeth and reached for the dial again. And again. And again ("…another line without a hook…the photographs your boyfriend took…I held you close as we both shook" and "dear Prudence, won't you come out and play…dear Prudence, greet the brand new day…"). Finally, after "Dirty Little Secret," he turned it off and stared despairingly across the room.

James and Peter were out in Hogsmeade - they had left a note - and he, Sirius, was left only with guilt, sorrow, and heartache to keep him company. Each one felt like a physical pain, threatening to tear his lungs apart (his heart was already broken). If only he had kept Remus from going to see Amos…this was all his fault.

Was there nothing to alleviate this pain, this helplessness? No. There, on the foot of James's bed, was his Potions kit, and a dagger was sticking out of the top. It was meant for cutting up plants and things, and James would surely not approve of the dagger's new use, but…Well. Sirius swallowed. He didn't have to know. And it's not like I'm going to make a habit of it, he added silently.

With earnest fingers, he got up and carefully slid it from the box. It was surprisingly warm, as if it had been in the hot sun for hours. Never mind that, he told himself impatiently, just hurry up and do it. Sirius's right hand jerked the dagger over his left forearm, took a deep breath, and cut. As the blood trickled out, he shakily sank down on the bed and slid out of his robe. This felt…wonderful. A beautiful escape from their glass - yet shadowed - reality. So slowly created, too quickly destroyed. But this - this was perfect.

He laughed (perhaps a bit hysterically) and pressed harder, harder. Welcome, oblivion.

~ The Holidays ~

The following week was a frustratingly lonely one for the marauders. Still recovering from his injuries, Remus was cold and distant, wary of anything and everyone. Peter had long since given up on approaching him, and James was on the verge of quitting, too, but Sirius was relentless. By day, he followed Remus to his every class. By night, he worried and worried and worried until, eventually, he had to feel that pain. He just had to. It was his only release.

~ Christmas Eve ~

"Mr. Lupin?" It was Professor McGonagall. Remus looked up reluctantly from his bacon. I have no time for this, he thought. If I linger too long, Sirius will have a head start on me.

Yes, the lycanthrope had noticed his friend's stalker-like behavior, and, truth be told, it frightened him. The opposite had happened with his boyfriend: Amos had seemingly disappeared completely and utterly from his life. Probably laying low until the professors forgot about this incident…No! Just kindly giving him some space, that's all. He would never -

"Remus?"

He started. The use of his first name brought his musings to an abrupt halt. Kind as she was, McGonagall always kept to formality.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Follow me."

She set off at a brisk pace and Remus sighed unhappily, following her out of the Great Hall. He couldn't help but to glance back at Sirius, who was pointedly staring at him. As in, staring at him in front of the entire school at the breakfast table. Other people, noticing Sirius's gaze, looked at Remus, too, but with less intensity. Remus turned away.

A few minutes later, they were seated in plushy, purple armchairs facing Professor Dumbledore in his office. With him were professors Slughorn and Lamie (the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher) and Madam Pomfrey. All five adults had the same grave look on their face, and Remus knew immediately what he had been summoned for. His mouth went dry.

"No," he protested croakily. "No, nothing happened. No one -"

"Remus," Dumbledore interrupted softy, "We did not accuse you or anybody else of doing anything wrong." He frowned and cleared his throat. "Although, if something has happened, it would be, ah, excellent, if you could inform us of it. He folded his hands in front of him, his fingers taking the shape of a steeple, and waited.

When Remus said nothing, Madam Pomfrey took over. "There are burns up and down each of his arms, Headmaster (from silver, I think), and bruises on various parts of his body. This is obviously evidence of some sort of attack."

.

"Sir, I can explain."

Remus said those four words against his will, but he had to say something, or else they would figure out the truth, and then what would they think of him? They would be horribly disgusted and ashamed of him - the reaction might even be worse than that of him being a werewolf. Dumbledore might be able to tolerate it, but, then again, he always saw the best of people. He crossed his fingers under his robes and began to speak.

"Most of the bruises are from transformations." He flushed and looked down at his lap to find Fawkes the phoenix settled down on his knees, comfortable as can be. "My werewolf transformations. As for the burns…well, I accidentally brushed up against the shower railing the other day. It's silver. And the water was hot." He stopped, blinking hard. "I'm fine, really."

He stood and raised his hand in a half-hearted wave. "May I go to class now?" he said, asking his question in just the right manner, the manner that said I feel uncomfortable and want to leave now.

McGonagall wearily shook her head and opened the door for him. "By your leave, Mr. Lupin."

The last glimpse of Dumbledore he saw that night was of him with his head and magnificent, radiant beard in his hands: a gesture of mourning.

~ Later ~

Remus made his way up to the Gryffindor Tower slowly, taking detours to avoid his classmates whenever possible. He had just climbed he last staircase when he ran into Peeves. Obnoxious and abrasive as ever, the poltergeist was delighted to find a lone adolescent meandering through a deserted corridor.

"Ooh, an inckle preeeeeeefect!" he cried joyfully through a bubble of Drooble's Best Chewing Gum. "Just what I need to raise my spirits!"

"Sciv off, Peeves. I'm not in the mood," grumbled Remus.

Peeves grinned and performed a summersault in midair.

"But why not, little prefect? Too busy handing out detentions? The stress of school too much for the puppy -" he glanced around "- werewolf?"

That was it. The straw had finally broken the camel's back, and this camel was not happy.

"Fuck. Off," Remus hissed through clenched teeth, and, yes, blurry eyes. How many more people, he thought furiously, will take the time to antagonize me today? I must have set a world record.

"Waddiwasi!" Remus did not look to see if the curse had worked; he turned on his heel and was inches away from the portrait hole when he almost ran into Peter. Remus quickly ducked down behind a suit of armor to avoid him, but there was no need. Peter, oblivious as ever, took no notice of him and hummed dreamily as he shuffled down the stairs.

Although he was cramped and uncomfortable, he made use of the time behind it to ponder the way Madam Pomfrey had talked about his body. What buns? There were no marks on his arms, right? He rolled up his left sleeve curiously and gasped. There, from his shoulder to his rather pointed elbow, were angry red blisters. Each one was approximately the size of a pointed snitch. Remus sank to the ground with a cry that only halfway left his lips. Yes. He remembered those burns.

~ An hour later ~

When Remus finally pulled himself together, he entered the boy's dormitory to see Sirius leap from his bed. He was, however, mystified as to why Sirius had headed to the bathroom instead of to him. That's odd, he thought distractedly. Shouldn't he be in class? Wait - shouldn't I be in class? Shit. Late for Potions. Where's my book?

Just as he finished telling his brain that his hat was not hisleft sock and that hats belonged on heads, James burst into the room. His face was practically florescent with joy.

"SIRIUS! LILY SAID -" He looked around. "Oh, hi, Remus," he said nervously. "Are you talking to us again?"

Remus flushed. "…I guess so? I mean," he said, "it's not that I don't want to hang out with you, it's just that I don't fee like, er," he searched for the best euphemism possible, "being around people."

James nodded wisely as if he understood, then turned to the bathroom.

"Sirius? You in there?" he called. When there was no reply, James merely shrugged and turned back to Remus.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" asked Remus.

James raised his eyebrows. "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"McGonagall wanted to talk to me about -" he blushed again, this time out of shame. His friend gestured with his hand for him to elaborate.

"About…?"

Remus winced and whispered, "Amos."

"Oh. Well, what are they going to do to him?" James said.

Remus shook his head slowly. "Nothing."

James was outraged. His sunny face from just a few minutes ago had turned into a red mask, with throbbing temples to boot.

"And why the fuck not?"

"I didn't say it was him. No, listen," he insisted, for James displayed every intention of interrupting, "if I say it was Amos, he'll tell the whole school about my, you know, furry little problem."

James frowned. "He raped you."

"No! No, it wasn't a r-rape! It was just - just -" Remus's body was shaking and his eyes and his hands closed into fists convulsively. James guided him to his bed.

"Okay. It wasn't. Now why don't you lie down and rest for a little while, hmm?"

"But, Potions class is still in session?" he protested, resisting the blanket that James was attempting to suffocate him with.

"Remus, mate, Potions ended twenty-five minutes ago. Slughorn didn't even notice that you were gone."

Nice wording, James. That makes me feel appreciated, he thought wryly.

"Besides," James continued, "You can always blame it on the full moon."

"You really think a Potions Master doesn't know when the full moon s? God, James, for such an O student, you're pretty dim."

James swatted him on the arm playfully, causing Remus to moan.

"Sorry! What's wrong with your arm?"

Remus froze. "N-nothing." He tried to yank his arm out of James's grasp, but the seeker was too fast. He shushed Remus and rolled up the sleeve. All was silent for several moments (). Then,

"I am going to murder him," said James viciously, then thought for a minute. "Or have McGonagall do it. You stay here.

"NO! No, James, listen! Please! If you tell, everyone will know about me. They'll tell the Ministry." He was openly crying now, hunched up on his bed. "I'm not a registered werewolf. Being what I am calls for the death penalty. Please."

They looked at each other levelly.

"All right, Remus, if that's really what you want to do. It's your decision," said James. His face was still white with suppressed rage and his hands were slightly shaking, but his tone was calm when he spoke.

Remus sighed in relief, and - was that regret? That feeling of sinking way down into the murky waters of green after passing by every lifeboat? And wishing with all your heart that you had clambered onboard, only to remember that you did not deserve to be saved?

James got up and went to go check on Sirius, leaving Remus to finger his blanket shakily and wonder how he would ever get himself out of this predicament.

~ In the Bathroom ~

Sirius winced and put his wand down on the counter as blood slowly spidered its way out of his veins. They look rather like cobwebs, he mused. The dagger was now safely back in James's trunk, as Sirius had found a cutting spell in the Restricted Section of the library. It was no wonder the spell was forbidden. It hurt like hell and never missed its cue. But a rather good kind of hurt, he thought. A nice distraction to get away from -

"Sirius?" A knock sounded on the marble door. "Okay in there?"

He quickly withdrew his wrist into the sleeve of his robe and wiped off the blood from his wand.

"Yeah, James, I'm fine."

"Can I come in?"

"Just a sec," he said hastily.

Sirius used the second to plaster and upside down frown onto his face.

"Come in."

The hazel eyes that Lily Evans loathed so much were immediately filled with concern as he looked at his friend, his head cocked at an angle that was vaguely reminiscent of a baby bird as it contemplated a worm and whether or not it would make a suitable snack.

When James said nothing and just kept his head at that peculiar - and also extremely irritating - angle, Sirius was forced to speak up.

"What do you want?" he didn't bother to make his voice sound cheerful (wasn't the smile enough already?). He just wasn't up for it today, and he hadn't cut nearly enough to feel alive or alert.

James looked taken aback. "I just wanted to see if you were okay," he said uncertainly.

"Why wouldn't I be." This sentence was so flat that there wasn't even a point to make it sound like a question. It was a challenging, argumentative, "I'm-a-pure-blood-so-I'll-crucio-you-to-death-if-you-don't-look-out statement.

"Well, you've been in here for about twenty minutes, mate." The word "mate" sounded forced, as if James was having difficulty calling Sirius his friend. "Remus finally came out of his shell and all you can do is go pee or masturbate or whatever the hell you've been doing? Give me a break."

"I wasn't -"

"Save it. Just. Go apologize to Moony or something, 'kay?" said James. The anger seemed to be leaving him.

Sirius refrained from sighing and twisted his frown up a little more.

"Fine."

~ Later That Evening ~

Long after the others had gone to sleep, Remus was curled up on the window seat, watching the snow tumble clumsily to the ground. Mother Earth caught them all, one after another, her babies, and clasped them to her bosom. He shook his head and smiled bitterly. If only his parents knew what had happened…

After imagining the responses his parents would give him if he told them about the rape, let alone being gay, he took a deep breath and sighed, something that he had been containing all day since his meeting with the professors.

"I'm fine. Really, I'm fine."

**Well, there you have it. Part I of "Of Abuse and Love." I am so very sorry for the long wait…was the read worth the wait? What do you think? Please review :) **


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